


on my own

by koganewest



Series: angst sentence prompts [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, But It's Not Exclusive to Romantic Love, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Crying, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith Has Hanahaki Because His Mom Doesn't Love Him Back, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Self-Indulgent, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganewest/pseuds/koganewest
Summary: It’s hard for Keith to not blame himself. He knew that the few people who contracted Hanahaki went unloved by who they needed most. However, Keith’s version of the disease – which was more prolonged and much more painful – was specific to non-romantic love. And, to make his situation even more uncommon, the love he was deprived of was not platonic. It was familial. It was motherly.As much as Keith tried to stop, he loved his mother; as much as Keith wished it weren’t true, his mother didn’t love him back.





	on my own

**Author's Note:**

> i saw the idea of hanahaki as a result not only of romantic love, but platonic love too! so, of course, i made keith suffer.
> 
> prompt: "I can't do this on my own anymore."

He’s used to it, really. 

There’s nothing more familiar to Keith than the constant coughing, the flowers in his lungs, and the feeling of being strangled from the inside out. He’s used to it by now, almost doesn’t know what life would be like without the weight of loneliness crushing his lungs. It’s a form of his emotional suffering, converting to something tangible, something visceral. He’s known this pain for years, since the day his life changed forever. 

He may be used to it, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. 

The sad reality of Keith’s situation isn’t his inevitable death, but his existence itself. There isn’t a day that passes that Keith doesn’t wish he was never born – or that the disease infecting his body would just kill him already. 

It’d be merciful, Keith thinks. More merciful than making him live another day. 

The worst part of it all isn’t the blood or the flowers or the pain. It’s the humiliation. He knows it’s obvious to his peers that he’s ill; there isn’t any way he can hide it. The bags under his eyes, the sickly color of his skin tone, the ever-present blood on his lips and cough in his chest all betray him. And, of course, the petals. 

The purple petals never cease. 

Keith chokes on the flowers nearly every waking moment, unable to repress it. It’s a constant reminder of the love that isn’t returned to him. It’s a constant reminder of the love he never deserved. 

It’s hard for Keith to not blame himself. He knew that the few people who contracted Hanahaki went unloved by who they needed most. However, Keith’s version of the disease, more prolonged and much more painful, was specific to non-romantic love. And, to make his situation even more uncommon, the love he was deprived of was not platonic, but familial. It was motherly. 

As much as Keith tried to stop, he loved his mother – despite all the wrong she’d done him, despite all the pain she’s caused him. 

As much as Keith wished it weren’t true, his mother didn’t love him back. 

Keith’s social worker tells him not to place the blame on himself. After all, how could she love him if she didn’t know him? It didn’t make sense. His social worker says that it’s not his fault he’s sick, that he should hold _her_ accountable for leaving, not himself. 

It’s hard not to realize, though, that Keith loves her without knowing her. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why didn’t she love him back? 

He tries not to think of the scenarios. He tries not to think about how, after taking one look at him, she probably decided he wasn’t worth the trouble, that she didn’t want to stick around and raise him, that she couldn’t ever love him. It’s hard not to think he was a mistake, undesired and unloved. 

He can’t imagine what he could’ve done to deserve this life. He thinks that maybe he has bad karma from a past life that condemned him to the suffering and agony he endures in this one. There is no other plausible explanation. 

(Except for one: she saw that he’d be broken, and she just didn’t want to be burdened with the trouble he’d be.)

So maybe Keith was a little fucked-up. Maybe he was _really_ fucked-up. Whichever the case, acknowledgement hadn’t ever done anything for him, and it never would. All it did was make his lungs ache and his throat burn with something deep and awful. 

There were times he was fine, though. There were times that he could ignore the pain in his chest and carry on living normally. There were times that he was preoccupied enough to distract himself. 

Today, however, is not one of those days. 

All it takes is parent-teacher conferences. His homeroom teacher brings them up, asking whose parents she’ll meet later that night, joking that they better behave, or she’ll give them bad reports. Keith watches nearly his entire class raise their hands, watches as each kid fights to get their hand especially high.

Keith stares daggers at his desk, willing the moment to end. His shoulders are tensed defensively, ready to protect himself if necessary.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he coughs up dozens of bloody petals onto the floor. 

Everyone – though they’re nearly as accustomed to Keith’s disease as he himself is – seems shocked. They’ve known about the extent of his illness, seen residual effects of it, and heard him in bathroom stalls, but nothing like this has ever happened _in class_. He’s always been able to make it to a garbage can or a toilet before this. 

That, Keith realizes with horror, is when his class puts it all together. Parent-teacher conferences. Hanahaki. _Parents._

They realize almost simultaneously that Keith’s unrequited love isn’t platonic or romantic – it’s familial. It’s parental. 

Stunned silence settles among the class. Even his teacher looks appalled, and no one moves until Keith does, shakily standing as he braces himself on his chair for support. His knees shake, his hands shake, his _whole entire body_ is shaking and won’t stop. He tries to stagger toward the door so he can seek refuge in the nearest empty room, but the whispers stop him. 

“His parents don’t –?” Keith hears from someone, and in that moment, he can’t contain his emotions any longer. 

“No _shit,”_ he practically snarls toward the direction he heard the fragmented sentence. His voice almost breaks with the words, but he tries to calm his breathing for another minute. He’s about to continue when his teacher hastily stands, briskly walking toward him to help him walk steadily. 

“Let’s get you to the nurse,” she says, tone shaky as she guides him out the door. Keith can hear the chatter pick up in the classroom as the leave, knowing that they’re gossiping about him. It makes his face heat with a strange combination of rage and humiliation. His teacher just pats his back and ignores it. “Come on, keep walking. I’ll take care of it.”

Her words mean nothing, though. Keith has already made up his mind: he can’t live like this anymore. If the disease is going to kill him anyway, then there is no reason to prolong his suffering. It’s better for everyone if he just ended it sooner rather than later. 

Keith gives the universe one last chance to prove him wrong. One week, he decides adamantly. If things don’t completely turn around in a week, Keith will end it.

The very next day, he meets Shiro.

* * *

Of course, things don’t turn around immediately. How could they? But with a lot of patience from Shiro and a lot of effort from Keith, things get better. 

Despite the growing trust between them, Keith refrains from telling Shiro the cause of his Hanahaki. He lets Shiro care for him on the worst days, but he doesn’t tell him who the purple petals choking him are from. He thinks that maybe Shiro could guess, since he knows Keith was living in an orphanage prior to his Garrison acceptance, but he never outrightly confirms or denies Shiro’s inevitable suspicions. 

Truthfully, Keith’s just worried about his reaction. Will Shiro pity him? Will he harbor anger toward Keith’s mother for her absence? Or, worst of all, will Shiro see the same insignificance that his mother saw? Will he, too, realize that Keith isn’t worth the trouble? 

The rational side of his brain acknowledges that Shiro’s helped him so much already, that the new information wouldn’t change anything. It supplies rationale that proves Shiro would stay, despite anything. His actions have never hinted otherwise. However, the emotional side of Keith argues that he’s just going to end up alone again. And that is the very last thing Keith wants. He doesn’t think he could survive Shiro leaving, especially now that he’s so attached. 

The only thing that keeps Keith from not telling Shiro is guilt. 

Keith owes Shiro his life. He knows that he would be dead if Shiro hadn’t shown up and taken him under his wing. Lying to Shiro stirs up all kinds of emotions, but the most prominent is guilt. Keith doesn’t think he can live with himself. Shiro deserves the truth.

Which, consequently, is how Keith ends up pacing outside of Shiro’s office just after knocking. 

Finally, when the door opens and Shiro welcomes him, Keith isn’t sure what to say. He debates just biting the bullet and blurting out what he wants to say, but that probably wouldn’t be the best approach. As he sits in the chair across from Shiro’s desk, he decides to ease into it. 

“You know I have Hanahaki,” he begins, watching Shiro nervously sit behind his desk. Keith wonders for a minute where Shiro expects the conversation to go. Still, his most obvious emotion is patience. Keith watches him nod, so he continues. “And you know I lived in an orphanage before I came to the Garrison.”

“Keith, what’s wrong?” Shiro inquires, and his eyes are inquisitive but kind, always so kind. There's something underlying in his concern, though, and Keith has yet to figure it out. A second or two of silence passes before Shiro speaks up again. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

Just as he's about to speak, fear wells up inside of him, deep and immense and consuming. He doesn't know how to stop the awful ideas of what could happen. His eyes well up with tears as he thinks about it. He doesn't want to tell Shiro _so bad_ , but he can't keep Shiro in the dark, especially since he's going to die.

“I'm alone,” he blurts, and the emotion comes rushing forth. “I’m alone, and– and I don't have anyone, and I–” Keith says, breathing in heavy gasps as his tears start coming. “My mom didn't love me, she didn't want me, she– no one loves me and I–”

Keith starts to sob. 

Immediately, Shiro is out of his seat and at his side, trying to uncurl Keith from the posture he's assumed as he cries into his hands. Gently, Shiro's hands are planted on his shoulders, but Keith can't see through the tears. He's practically hysterical now, even as Shiro collects him in his arms. Keith takes a while to untense himself, but when he does, he melts against Shiro. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, Keith secure in Shiro's hold as he rubs his back soothingly, until Keith begins to cough. 

Purple petals stained with blood fall from his lips, and Shiro watches in horror. At this point, there's nothing either of them can do but stand and let it happen. As Keith chokes, his throat burns and his eyes sting with the force of it all. 

On the floor, salty tears fall and mix with red and purple.

“I can't do this on my own anymore,” Keith admits a few minutes later when the coughing has stopped, though his voice is still shaky and thick with emotion. “I just want all of this to be over.”

Shiro stops what he's doing abruptly, ceases digging through his desk for tissues. He straightens up, gazing directly into Keith's eyes. 

And that's when Keith realizes how much Shiro is worn down by this. His eyes, though soft and caring, are weary with bags and dark circles, in addition to the crease in his brown. His uniform is more rumpled than usual, highlighting the exhaustion in his posture. He looks burdened with the weight of the world, and that was the very last thing Keith every wanted – for Shiro to share his suffering. 

And despite it all, determination fills his expression. 

“Everything is going to get better, Keith,” he says, and it sounds like a promise, a vow. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. I’ve said it before, and I meant it. I’m not giving up on you.”

Keith straighten himself. Wipes the tears from his eyes and the blood from his mouth. 

And he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> this work officially brings me to 100k words written and posted on ao3!! crazy right?? hope you liked this!
> 
> im on tumblr [here](https://koganewest.tumblr.com)  
> -lily


End file.
